


The Night Begins to Shine

by SamoanSexGodReigns



Series: Kinktober 2018 [8]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Do not post to another site, First Time, Kinktober 2018, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Wrestling AU, Oral Sex, Prostitution, no beta we die like men, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamoanSexGodReigns/pseuds/SamoanSexGodReigns
Summary: Sweet virgin Rhyno hires jaded prostitute Heath for his first time.





	The Night Begins to Shine

**Author's Note:**

> To the three other people who ship this pairing, cheers!

Dude across the street has been staring at Heath for a good ten minutes without moving a muscle. He starts to wonder if maybe the guy is a cop looking to make a bust, but unless it was an undercover sting, they tended to just tell people like Heath to clear out. The man looks to be a few inches shorter than him, but he’s built wider and thicker with strongman style muscles bulging under his blue button-up shirt. Heath should probably be a little freaked out by the guy's unwavering gaze, but he’s been at this gig for a while, and the bad ones tended to turn Heath’s insides into permafrost that left him shivering for days after. This guy didn’t do that though. There’s a slightly confused look on his face, and Heath can see his thick neck work with the anxious way he repeatedly swallows all the way from his spot against the abandoned bodega. 

After another ten minutes, he comes to the conclusion that this guy couldn’t possibly fuck him any harder than the asshole who’d stiffed him thirty dollars earlier that night, so he lifts his hand to wave the guy over. The stranger’s entire body actually jerks with his surprise like Heath hadn’t been able to see him standing there this whole time, and a split second of panic flashes over his face before his barrel chest widens with the breath he takes, and he heads towards Heath.

As he gets closer, Heath can finally get a better look at his face, and Heath is surprised by how handsome the guy actually is. Dark hair that he’d originally thought short was really just gathered into a low bun at the back of his neck, and Heath found himself wondering how long it was. His round face is cut with an angular jaw, and he has a neatly trimmed mustache and matching goatee. His brown eyes are so light that they could almost be mistaken for green in certain lighting, and they’re surprisingly kind when they look at Heath. His blue shirt looks to be well-made, and it’d have to be because the guy is even burlier up close. He’s wearing actual dress pants and fucking loafers that look like they cost more than Heath has spent on food this month. He stops a good three feet away from Heath and puts his hands in his pockets, and then he just waits. 

Heath realizes that he’s going to have to be the one to break the ice, and he puts on his most charming smile. “Are you lost or are you looking for something?” he asks casually.

The man’s eyes dart from Heath’s face to the outline of his cock through his too-tight athletic shorts and then back to his face as an honest to God _blush_ darkens his cheeks. “I – I was looking for something.” His voice is hesitant, but the soft rumble of it tickles over Heath’s skin pleasantly.

“Were you looking for me, baby?” he teases with a wink.

Guy takes another one of those comically obvious gulps that roll down his throat with all the subtlety of a bowling ball, and Heath bites the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. It’s apparent that the man in front of him is nervous, and Heath can’t afford to lose a customer because he couldn’t keep his shit together. 

“Yes, I, uh, would you want to uh,” he pulls one hand out of his pocket to gesture vaguely between the two of them, “with me?” 

If this guy couldn’t even say the word ‘sex’ then Heath doubted he’d ever hired a pro before, so Heath dialed back his overly flirtatious presentation. He didn’t need to be an aggressive advertiser to get this sale, he just needed to gently guide the man to his purchase. 

“Sure, I would. Do you have a place for us to go?” Going back to Heath’s apartment was never an option, he refused to take his work home with him, and he really didn’t want to get bent over another dumpster.

Sir Shyness just nods earnestly and says, “Yeah, yeah, a hotel about five blocks that way.” He points in the direction of downtown, and Heath is fine with that. 

“I’ll follow you then.” He pushes off the brick wall behind him and then rocks forward as if encouraging the other man to start moving. 

The guy stares a little longer, shakes his head to clear it, and then sets off at a brisk pace. Heath’s legs are longer, so after a few strides, he’s caught up and falls into step with his companion. He maintains a safe distance between their bodies as he watches abandoned buildings and trash-filled streets morph into high-end restaurants and luxury condos. He’d always been amazed at the city’s ability to go from heroin addicts to Hermès within a five-minute walk. 

“What do you want me to call you once we get to your hotel?” Heath inquires conversationally.

“Terrance,” he replies automatically before wincing at the fact that he’d probably just given his real name to whore before going on, “but most people just call me Rhyno.”

“Rhino, like the animal?” It made sense to Heath. He looked like a rhino – powerful and intimidating and like way too much raw strength packed into a stout body.

“Well, yeah but spelled with a ‘y’ instead of an ‘i’. I’m not sure how it ended up that way, but I got the name in high school, and it just stuck.” He shrugged mountainous shoulders. “What about you, what should I call you?”

Instead of answering with an ingrained _you can call me whatever you want, baby_ Heath replies with his real fucking name because, for some reason, he feels… safe? with Rhyno, what the fuck. He doesn’t wince when he says it though because he’s got years of experience hiding his true emotions, and Rhyno just says, “Alright, Heath.” and they continue on silently until they reach the hotel.

The place turns out to be nicer and cleaner than any place Heath has stepped foot into, and as they step into the gilded elevator and head to the twenty-second floor the unease Heath maybe should have been feeling this whole time bursts through the door in his stomach to trash the place like a herd of sugar-high goats. This place was way too fancy for him. The carpet in the hallway they walk down is so plush he actually _sinks_ into it with every step and Heath has to resist the urge to run. He keeps telling himself it will all be worth it when he can pay his electric bill _and_ get a Taco Bell taco twelve-pack as Rhyno uses _his fucking watch_ to open the door and usher him inside. It _swishes_ over more plush carpet, and the quiet click of the lock resonates with the intensity of a nuclear bomb. 

The hotel _room_ is really more of a _suite_ with a fucking kitchen and the bed in a separate room and everything. Rhyno putters around the room turning on lights and turning off others. He draws the curtains over windows that give Heath a birds-eye view of the twinkling lights of the city as if he’s afraid someone might see them even this high up. Heath still hasn’t moved from his position by the door, and Rhyno rushes into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine that Heath hadn’t noticed before from a bucket in the sink. He struggles with the corkscrew for a moment, tiny device not made for such large hands, and then pops the cork with the ease of plucking a hair.

“Do you want a glass?” he asks uncertainly, already pouring one for himself.

Heath scoffs and shakes his head, all niceties and thoughts of cheap tacos forgotten under about six new layers of apprehension and disbelief because, honestly, this was starting to be the weirdest gig of his life. “What are you doing? What is all this, huh? You get a super fancy hotel room with _fucking wine_, and for what, to fuck a hooker?” A thought from earlier pings back into Heath’s brain, and his panic comes out sounding like anger as he narrows his eyes at Rhyno. “Are you a fucking cop because if you are you have to tell me now that I asked or it’s entrapment.”

“No!” he exclaims. “I’m not a cop, I’m an art dealer. It’s, it’s uh,” he pauses long enough to chug the contents of his glass and then goes on, “It’s my first time, and I just wanted to make it nice.”

“It’s your first time hiring a prostitute, yeah, I figured, but that doesn’t explain why you went all out like this when we could have just gone to the Motel 6.”

Rhyno’s eyes go wide and pained as if pleading with Heath to understand. “I wanted it to be nice because it’s my first time _ever_ with _anyone_.” he whispers, shame coloring his every word.

Heath is taken aback by Rhyno’s confession. He looks to be a bit older than Heath himself, he’s handsome, and obviously well off enough to afford a hotel room like this so… Heath is puzzled. He just can’t fathom how such an attractive man could still possibly be a virgin. Even if he was gay and was just coming to terms with that surely, he would have at least been with a woman by now. Right? Heath had never been with a virgin before, had never wanted to. He thought they came with too much baggage and too much responsibility, especially for a one-time encounter with a sex worker. Something about Rhyno, though, his sincerity and thoughtfulness, was making Heath break all of his own rules.

“Well, it is. Nice, I mean.” He clears his throat. “I usually like to discuss the night’s activities and payment before we start.”

It’s like the tension in Rhyno’s body leaves at his words because his spine goes soft, and he sags with relief. “Yeah, okay.”

Heath goes to sit at an actual fucking dining table, and Rhyno scampers after him like a puppy. Once he’s seated, Heath launches right into it with, “What exactly are you hoping for with this encounter?”, because they had to start somewhere.

Rhyno’s cheeks go red again. “I wanted to… have sex…with you.”

“Right.” Heath nods. “Do you want to penetrate me, or do you want to be penetrated?”

If it’s possible, Rhyno’s cheeks flush even darker, and he whispers, “I wanted to penetrate you.”

“Anal sex is $75 always with a condom. I don’t go bare with anyone, and if you don’t have one, I do.” Heath takes a breath to go on, but Rhyno interrupts with an eager _I do have some_ before he shoves a hand into the pocket of his pants and comes out with a fistful of Trojan’s he slaps on the table.

Heath chuckles, not unkindly. “I don’t think we’re going to need that many unless you’ve got friends hiding in the bedroom over there.” he jokes.

“No, of course not.” Rhyno says, scandalized. “It’s just me.”

“Alright.” he soothes. “If you want a blow job, that’s an additional $25. If you want kinky stuff, the price varies, but the more extreme it gets, the more the price goes up.” Heath had learned the hard way that you never let a client whip you bloody for standard rates. 

“What if I… what if I want to suck you off, is that extra too?”

Heath has to try and reign in his surprise because not once in his too many years of working the streets has a client ever asked to put their mouth on Heath’s dick. “No, that’s uh, that’s included.” Rhyno looks at Heath with wonder in his eyes like Heath had just thrown in the car charger for free, and he has to remind himself that he is not a good person. He’s a broke gay whore with no friends and even less family, and Rhyno was only being nice to him because he wanted to know how tight his asshole was. 

“Do you want the money now?”

After what happened earlier, Heath should say yes, he should make it a point to always say _fuckin’ yes_ to this question, but no one ever said Heath was the brightest bulb in the crayon box. “You can just leave it on the table. I don’t think you’re gonna stiff me in any way I won’t like.” he says, laughing at his own double entendre.

Rhyno tries to laugh, too, but it comes out soft and almost non-existent. Now that the negotiations were over and he was about to have sex for the first time in his forty-three years of life he didn’t know what to do. He was so anxious his heartbeat was a horse race in his chest, and the tips of his fingers were starting to go numb. Rhyno was pretty sure that’s exactly how his grandfather described his heart attack, and Rhyno wonders if maybe that’s what’s happening to him now. Heath must be feeling no such nerves, though, because he stands up from the table, smirks, and then walks into the bedroom casually like he’s done this a hundred times before, and maybe he has Rhyno doesn’t know, wouldn’t even presume to ask. After a few minutes he stands up on legs that feel like they don’t exist, tosses the wad of cash from his pocket onto the table and grabs the condoms before following Heath into the bedroom. 

When he finally gets there, Heath is already naked on the bed, helping himself to the lube Rhyno left out with two fingers lost inside himself. Rhyno takes in a suddenly ragged breath and has to clench his fists to keep from charging at all the pale creamy skin Heath has put on display. His athletic body is lightly muscled but still soft around the middle, his chest covered in tiny brown freckles, and Rhyno’s mouth watered with the desire to get them under his tongue. There’s a fine dusting of nearly invisible red hair on his arms along with a bunch of tattoos that Rhyno lacks the mental capacity to identify with all of his blood heading south like snowbirds in the winter. His legs, so long and covered in more of that thin ginger hair, are spread obscenely wide as Heath works to add a third finger to the mix, and Rhyno’s gaze is drawn to the fluttering pink of his rim as it blooms around his thrusting digits. When the third finger slips inside, Heath’s entire body quivers, and his cry is soft and abortive as if he didn’t want to be making the sound in the first place. Frustration nestles between Heath’s brows, and his next thrust is rougher than it needs to be as he deliberately remains silent, and it feels wrong to Rhyno. Heath shouldn’t be hurting himself, shouldn’t be forcing his body to be ready for Rhyno when it was always Rhyno’s dream to arouse his partner with tender hands.

“Shouldn’t I be doing that?” His voice turns Heath into the most erotic statue he’s ever seen as Heath goes stone still on the king-size bed Rhyno had paid extra for.

When the spell is broken, Heath slowly pulls the fingers from his body and asks uncertainly, “Do you want to?”

“Yes, I would like to, if that’s okay with you.”

Heath’s eyes close on a slow blink and then open startlingly wide before returning to their regular size. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine.”

Rhyno pauses long enough to toe-off his shoes and to toss the condoms onto the nightstand before joining Heath on the bed. He sits cross-legged next to Heath, and the man laid out before him is beautiful, a fiery gladiator about to slay Rhyno for sport with his toned body and his unwavering patience. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Heath makes a show of getting comfortable on the bed and replies, “Touch away.”

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like or if I’m doing it wrong. I want this to be good for you too.”

Rhyno is so enthralled with Heath’s body, so concerned with where to touch, and how to touch that he doesn’t see the look of astonishment that crosses Heath’s face. He couldn’t know about the peculiar feeling that shoves itself between Heath’s heart and his ribs and makes it hard for him to breathe. 

Rhyno decides it’s best to start slowly, so he doesn’t overwhelm himself or Heath, and he trails his fingers over the freckle tan skin of Heath’s chest and abdomen. The contrasting ridges of muscle and planes of soft flesh a map of sights that he wants to explore more thoroughly. He can already feel his cock fattening up in his slacks, and he’s barely touched Heath. He’s probably going to cum in his pants before he even gets his cock inside Heath, and that is absolutely the worst-case scenario at this point, even worse than Heath smashing a lamp over his head and leaving a huge red mess for housekeeping to clean up tomorrow. 

Forcing images of his gruesome murder and his even more gruesome humiliation from him mind Rhyno turns his attention back to the glory that is Heath’s body. He goes back to tracing his hands over Heath’s torso, just stroking over it with the pads of his fingers before stopping to massage and fondle Heath’s tits. His nipples harden under Rhyno’s hands, and he plucks them into full rosy peaks. His entire chest is turning a bright scarlet, and another hushed sound of pleasure falls from his pretty mouth. Heath’s teeth set into his bottom lip, and he chews it like a Doberman, seemingly determined to make it through their encounter while making as little noise as possible. That just wouldn’t do.

“You can make noise if you want to. It lets me know when I’m doing things right.”

Immediately Heath’s releases a deep sigh and moans. “Harder, could you pinch my nipples a little harder and maybe… use your mouth?” He looks unsure like he wasn’t supposed to ask for something that would make him feel good and like he isn’t even sure why he’s said them.

Rhyno needs no other excuse to get a part of Heath’s body in his mouth, and he leans forward to wrap his lips around one tight bud. He flicks his tongue over the diamond in his mouth and sucks it hard against his teeth. At the same time, he pinches and rolls the nipple not in his mouth between two fingers with same amount of pressure he serves the other. 

“Yes, just like that, so good, Rhyno.” He keeps at it, switching from one nipple to the other, plucking and sucking until they’re inflamed and sensitive, and Heath has to tug him away by the hair. “There are other parts of me that could use some attention.” He nods toward his cock shyly, and his face goes as red as his messy hair.

With Rhyno’s attention being directed to Heath’s cock, Rhyno becomes aware of the fact that it’s already half-hard where it lies against a pale thigh. Reaching down tentatively he wraps gentle fingers around Heath’s delicate flesh. He strokes over it lightly a few times just to get used to the feeling of a dick in his hand that’s not his own. He’s longer and slimmer, where Rhyno is a little shorter and thicker like the rest of his body. He slowly applies a little more pressure and then adds a twist around the head that he knows feels amazing from when he’s done it to himself. He’s rewarded for his efforts when Heath’s cock twitches in his hand, but he wants to hear more of Heath’s delicious gasps and sighs from earlier, so he bends down to take a cock into his mouth for the first time.

“Wait!” 

Heath’s shout evaporates every drop of arousal in Rhyno’s bloodstream, and he drops Heath’s cock like he’s been burned jerking back to put distance between their bodies and almost upending himself onto the floor. After he regains his balance, he implores Heath, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he cuts himself off and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain, “yes,” a harsh breath forced out through his nose, “maybe?” he huffs. “You just probably don’t want to suck me off without a condom, ya know, for your protection.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry.” he apologizes, trying to disguise the disappointment in his voice. “Must be for your protection too, though. I mean, letting a random stranger slobber on your dick bare probably isn’t the best idea.” Rhyno says it offhandedly, ignorant of the fact that letting a stranger go at him raw is nowhere near the worst thing Heath has ever done during his tenure in the world’s oldest profession. 

Rhyno grabs a condom from the nightstand and shows it to Heath. “Is it ok if I…” he trails off and points to Heath’s slightly softer prick.

“If you want to.” he says timidly.

Rhyno did, indeed, want to, very badly. Ripping the condom packet open with his teeth like the beast he’s been accused of being Rhyno pulls it and rolls it down Heath’s cock with adrenaline trembling fingers. He strokes over the heated flesh in his hands a few more times to be sure the latex is snug at the base of Heath’s cock, and then he takes it into his mouth for the first time. He starts slowly, not wanting to turn into a gagging mess on his first go ‘round, only taking in the first quarter of Heath’s dick and bobbing his head over it a few times before taking him deeper. The powdery texture of the condom feels weird in his mouth at first, and he longs to know what it would feel like to have Heath’s cock bare and flexing in his mouth, but he’s just thankful Heath is letting him do this at all. Interminable minutes tick by, and all Rhyno is aware of is Heath’s prick and the delectable sounds leaving Heath’s lips. 

When he’s finally able to take Heath down to the root, the tickle of his pubic hair against Rhyno’s lips feels like winning the lottery, and when Heath’s hand dives into Rhyno’s hair he’s pretty sure he’s found the meaning of life. A dick in his throat and a gorgeous man moaning above him, it was fuckin’ nirvana, and there couldn’t be much more to life than that.

“God, Rhyno, that’s good.” Heath gasps, thrusting up into Rhyno’s mouth and shoving himself farther down Rhyno’s esophagus. 

Rhyno wants to make it even better. With cautiously exploratory fingers, he caresses over the drawn tight skin of Heath’s sac and over his taint to trace around his still lubed rim. The fluttering of Rhyno’s heart matches the fluttering of Heath’s hole when he slips one meaty finger into Heath’s channel. It slides in easily having already been stretched by Heath earlier, but Rhyno still takes his time working Heath open with that one finger before finally adding a second. Heath grinds down into his hand, and Rhyno scissors his fingers and keeps trying to swallow Heath’s dick until Heath is nothing but an endless stream of desperate whispers and sensual moans. 

“Curl your fingers a little, please, and maybe, harder?” 

Rhyno takes it as an executive order. He curls he fingers up and fucks into Heath harder. When he finally finds Heath’s prostate, he rubs over it a few times before making it the victim of a targeted carnal assault. It positively sets Heath off. He thrusts down Rhyno’s throat so deep and hard that Rhyno really does gag, can feel bile rising for half a second before he forces it back down. The hand in Rhyno’s hair pulls _hard_, and Rhyno is forced to follow it as he releases Heath’s cock with a lewd _pop_. In the end he’s thankful for it, though because it means he gets to see Heath throw his head back as his body goes taut, gets to see his cock seize in the condom as he fills the tip of it with his cum. He stares, awestruck, and three fingers deep, as Heath shivers through the aftershocks of his orgasm, and then lust black eyes are on Rhyno like prison spotlights.

“I’m ready for your cock now, Rhyno.” 

And oh boy was Rhyno ready to give it to him. He’s been hard since he first touched Heath, the excitement of his first time and Heath’s response to his touch having coalesced into one granite-hard erection currently tenting his pants. He knows what he wants to do, knows what he needs to do, but he just can’t seem to make his body move, ketamine stuck to the spot. It’s okay, though, because Heath, wonderful, understanding Heath, sits up, removes his condom, and then pushes Rhyno onto his back. He reaches for the fly of Rhyno’s slacks and releases Rhyno’s straining cock in a few quick movements. Heath doesn’t bother stripping Rhyno of his pants, just tugs over his cock a few times before he’s reaching for a condom and rolling it down Rhyno’s engorged prick. 

It’s all happening a little too fast for Rhyno to track, but the next thing he knows, Heath is straddling his lap with one hand planted firmly on Rhyno’s chest, and his cock grasped in the other as Heath slowly sinks down onto it. When he’s fully seated in Rhyno’s lap, all of Rhyno’s Coke can circumference taken hostage in his body, Heath groans, “Fuck Rhyno, you’re so _thick_, baby.”

Rhyno wants to say something back, wants to tell Heath how crazy sexy gorgeous he is, but he’s lost to the satin glove enveloping his length. It’s like being caught in the worst/best wildfire being held by Heath’s body, and Rhyno almost doesn’t care about getting burned. Heath grinds against his lap a few times before he’s lifting himself up, and Rhyno’s cock almost slips out, but then he pounds back down.  
“Heath!” It’s punched out of Rhyno’s chest as Heath steals all the air from his body in a single movement.

Heath reaches down to grab Rhyno’s hands and then places them on his slender hips. “Hold on because I’m about to ride the Rhyno,” he says with a devilish smile. He starts a slow pace, more gentle grinding with flush bodies, and then he’s lifting his hips and slapping his ass against Rhyno’s cloth-covered thighs on every stroke. He reaches for the buttons on Rhyno’s shirt, musician slim fingers making quick work of them, and then he’s opening Rhyno’s shirt to expose his chest. Rhyno feels a moment of panic, he knows he’s not as fit as he used to be, knows there’s a layer of fat over all of his once chiseled muscles, but when Heath leans down to flick a wet tongue over his nipples all self-consciousness flees. 

“Been wanting to see this big chest all night. You’re so big _everywhere_ and I fuckin’ _love_ it Rhyno.” 

Heath is sucking and biting little bruises into his chest, and Rhyno knows he won’t last long; knows he won’t be able to resist the heavenly walls around his cock or the pornographic mouth practically luring the orgasm out of him. Rhyno also knows that he wants to make Heath cum again, that he wants to know what it feels like to have Heath paint his torso with cum. He wraps a hand around Heath’s second erection of the night and tries to set a steady rhythm that he knows ends up being sporadic and uncontrolled. It seems to be working for Heath, though, because he lets loose a long string of profanity and starts riding Rhyno like a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby. The pleasure coiled like a rattlesnake in his pelvis strikes lightning-quick and ecstasy floods through his veins like euphoria infused blood. Every muscle in his body goes so tight he’s on the verge of cramping everything, but at the same time he can’t feel anything other than the fuzzy vibrations that have replaced his skin. 

“You gonna cum for me, Rhyno? I want you to, want you to cum in my pussy, baby, please.”

Heath’s rasping cry of filth is all it takes to push Rhyno over the razor-thin line separating him from his climax. He cums with a shout loud enough to rattle the windows and releases forty-three years’ worth of pent up desire. He drops Heath’s cock, too lost in his own pleasure to do anything with it anyway, and squeezes brands into Heath’s hips in the shape of his hands as Heath fucks him through his peak. 

When it feels like Heath couldn’t milk another drop of lust out of him, and his cock starts to feel over-sensitive even through the condom, Heath’s ass turns into a velveteen bear trap, and he screams Rhyno’s name as he cums all over his stomach. He collapses bonelessly onto Rhyno’s chest, heedless of Rhyno’s new semen white abs, and Heath kisses him square on the mouth. It’s just a press of their lips at first, just light pressure, and then Heath’s tongue teasing across his lips. Rhyno gasps, and Heath sneaks his tongue into Rhyno’s mouth to play with Rhyno’s. The sweet kiss ignites new sparks of desire along his spine, and Rhyno clutches Heath as he thrusts up into Heath’s body on pure reflex. 

Heath chuckles into his neck. “You ready to go again already, baby?” The answer should be no. Rhyno came not five minutes ago, and he’s way past his prime, but unbelievably his spent cock is trying to get hard again. “Mmm, yay, I was hoping I’d get that fat dick in my mouth before the night was over.”

Heath certainly does end up with Rhyno’s fat dick in his mouth that night, multiple times, and together they go through all the condoms on the nightstand. In the morning, Heath leaves with all the money on the kitchen table and Rhyno’s business card. It sits in his pocket, heavy with meaning, for two days before Heath gives in and calls the number.

Rhyno sounds genuinely excited when he answers.

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinktober 2018 Day 8 Prompt - Prostitution/Sex Work  
Title from the song of the same name by B.E.R


End file.
